The Vicious Rose and the Artful Fool
by thepaperfalcon
Summary: Gotham is in a state of chaos and rumours of Joker's death has begun to circulate. Mostly just sexual content. IvyxHarley.


"Surrender, Joker. Your time is up."

So he said. No one truly knew what happened that night. Batman wasn't a murderer, not even to villains like him. He'd simply gone through the cycles, their rehearsed little game. He'd taken a hit with a Batarang, but it must've been the thousandth time. Last he knew he was back in Arkham with a minor injury, but by the next night he was gone. Only his body remained.

Gotham City was in a state of mass panic. Arkham was bursting. The inmates couldn't take it. Joker's empire became nothing more than a mass of chaos as everyone tried to climb up the hierarchy. Batman hid as Joker's underground fought rounds of never ending civil war. The disposable men did not last a day against the bigger men. The people of Gotham steeled their doors and barred their windows. Some fled the city in search of a brighter place, a place where they could live every moment without fearing the worst. It was a game of who could kill the most in terms of brutality and numbers. Perhaps Batman hoped to simply diminish the numbers before he took action. Maybe he'd given up. When the days passed, Gotham's lights grew dimmer.

Harley couldn't care less what's happening outside her one roomed apartment. As soon as she saw the news, as soon as they showed his body, she was quiet for the first time. Very quiet.

It was a day to remember.

Ivy was skeptical, of course, and told her everything was going to be okay. It was probably staged as usual. The Joker was never short on theatrics. Maybe he just wanted some quiet for once and went on vacation to the other side of the world. One day he'll appear out of nowhere with a master plan to destroy the city. That's right. But Harley didn't seem convinced. A lover's intuition perhaps. Ivy never claimed to understand her love for the man. He'd treated her like an object that he could conveniently use and throw away, beat up a little bit if he was angry. Even a girl as dim as Harley could figure out that he didn't love her, she hoped.

Ivy shook her head. There was nothing she could do. Perhaps she should be grateful now that she could carry on her experiments in silence. But as she watched the crystals begin to form around Harley's eyes, she found herself wishing he really did die.

"Red," she said, quivering. "It ain't true right, Red? My puddin' still out there."

"Probably."

Harley peered over her shoulder, her eyes glazed when a sudden idea came. Ivy found herself caught between the dilemma of staying or running far, far away.

"Red…we gotta make sure," Harley said with her old self-confidence.

"No, Harles, we can't."

She shot up off the floor, her pigtails bouncing with excitement. Ivy closed her eyes. She knew what was coming next. Some crazy idea that will land them right back into Arkham. Couldn't she see that this cycle was never going to end for them? Every day it was the same routine. Every day they'd be right back where they are: trotting the entirety of this oversized box in their underwear. Over and over again.

Harley grinned maliciously. "We're gonna march straight up to the morgue and look for his body. Hell, we might as well just take it while we're at it!"

"Oh, please. Can't we just watch the news instead?"

"But Reeeeed!"

"You know what will happen if we try! We're not gonna be the only ones doing something as crazy as this. Let's just stay home for once and keep a low profile."

"How could you say somethin' like that! We go out and do crazy things for your plants, but we can't take _one_ night for me and the one thing most important to me!"

"Harl, you don't understand. It's chaos out there."

"No, _you're_ the one who doesn't get it! I thought you were my friend! But y'know what? I don't need you. I can get Mr. J home by myself! God, I can't believe you're so selfish, Red!" She was almost shrieking by the time she finished. She shook her headgear at Ivy, bearing her teeth.

Ivy gaped. She was frightened for a second, then angry the next. "_I'm_ selfish now?" She stormed towards Harley and jabbed a finger into her shoulder in time with each word. "I'm _not_ the one giving up _our_ friendship for a man WHO NEVER EVEN LOVED YOU!" she roared. Harley shook under the weight of her blind fury. Without even a thought, she pulled out her punch-gun and fired, catching Ivy in the head and knocking her onto the floor.

"I can't believe you just did that," Ivy grumbled, nursing her eye. "To think you'd punch your only friend for some stupid man. I don't know whether to be proud of you or not. You'd never win against me, you know that right?"

Harley frowned, cocking her gun at her once more. "You punch me all the time! Y'know just because you have your pheromones or whatever and your kissing powers don't mean you're better than me, Red!"

"You think so?" Ivy stood up and glared, the heat of their gaze practically steaming into the mouldy room. Suddenly, vines began to crawl in from the open window, slithering across the hardwood floor. They spiralled up Harley's legs and wrapped themselves around her arms. She shrieked and closed her eyes. When she opened them again she was suspended only an inch from the ceiling. The vines latched around her waist. She screamed and swung, thrashed against the hostile plant, but soon gave up. She hung in the air like a wilted flower, powerless and suddenly dispassionate.

Ivy shrugged. "I told you. You can't beat me in a fight."

Harley was quiet.

"But if my lips were as powerful as you think they are," Ivy continued, picking up her jacket, "you would've given up on the Joker a long time ago."

The door slammed shut behind her, rattling the entire empty apartment, leaving only Harley to feel the vibrations. The vines receded and before she knew it, she was back on her soft bed. She didn't move for hours. She was so miserable she couldn't even cry. What did they do to him? He couldn't have died peacefully. God knows the Bat couldn't control his temper. What could he have possibly done that was so terrible that even the Joker couldn't escape? Was it something so complex that none of his deadly toys could gamble back his life? And if Ivy was right, why would he do that? Why would he just leave her in Gotham just as the gates closed and the dogs were released?

In all probability, Ivy was probably right. It wasn't like this hasn't happened before. But all the previous times…at least he included her in his plans.

And Ivy. Why did she leave? She knew as well as she did that she would never sacrifice their friendship. It was the only one either of them had. It wasn't like she hadn't whined about the Joker before or fought like this before. Then again, she never knew what to expect from her. One minute she was like a sister and the next she suspends her from her life. What was she, a reusable, easily disposable play thing? She was angrier still at the fact that she had to take a vicious blow at her pathetic love life. Did the all-knowing, almighty redhead honestly think she was too blonde to notice? It was true that sometimes she fit into her stereotype quite snugly. But she wasn't dumb enough to not notice the abuse she took from the man she thought she loved. Sometimes she would think that he might secretly be smitten with her, just that he didn't know how to express himself in a positive way. The Joker was, like the man on the playing card, the only one in the deck. He was one-of-a-kind. He did not experience things the same way as other human beings. She'd long ago been disenchanted. She'd long ago accepted that her love will never be returned. It was a complicated feeling. Regardless, he'd been in her life for a long time. To be forcibly ousted like this brought a wrangling feeling to her heart.

She just wanted to make sure. She needed to know. Why did she have to be so bad at controlling her emotions?

Why does Red have to be such a bitch sometimes? Why is Batman such an asshole? Why did he have to be so _obsessed _with the Joker? Why did he want him dead so badly? Why, why, why, why, why? Like words out of a blender they siphoned through her mind, in and out of consciousness, hungry to take control. She hated these thoughts. She hated to think. Period.

She watched the battered clock on the wall as the hands ticked by, each second she felt the smug look of Jupiter. Where was that little princess? She shouldn't be wandering around at night. It was dangerous. The Bat could be prowling for her. Harley turned on her side to face the window.

Suddenly the foundations shook and the green monsters came back, its vines crawling through the window once more. How comforting, Harley thought with a smile. She sat up, the breeze catching her tank top.

"It's cold out, Harl. You should put some clothes on," said the familiar silky voice of her roommate. That was the first thing she said as the plant carried her through the window. She stepped off elegantly, like a celebrity greeting the red carpet.

"It's not him," she said.

"Where did you go?" Harley asked. The monster withdrew, the windows were shut, and the curtains were drawn. Ivy stripped down to her underwear, her usual household attire. She sat down on the bed beside Harley. "And don't you patronize me. You wear less than I do. Always."

"It's not him," she repeated. "The Joker's still out there."

Harley immediately shot onto all fours, trespassing into Ivy's personal space, bouncing like a puppy awaiting her treat. "You broke in, Red? You went out without me? Howdyou know if it was him? Tell me, Red, tell me!"

"Harley, sit!" Ivy cried, pushing her backwards. "I'm pretty sure. I mean he looked like him, but I really don't think it was him."

"Why? What? How?" she said, her words like a motion blur shooting out of her lips. "Didya look carefully? There's a spot on his—"

"STOP!" she said, raising both hands up. The cactus in the corner straightened up at attention. "I _don't_ need to know. He was fatter and shorter than I remembered. He wasn't wearing the right shade of purple."

"What? That's it?"

"Look I don't know. The cops came in before I could investigate further," she ran a hand through her hair. "We'll go take a look first thing tomorrow."

Harley's face brightened up, like Christmas lights against a dark winter night. "Aw, thank's Red! I knew you'd come around. And," she ducked her head, gave her the best puppy dog eyes, "I'm sowwy?"

"What happened earlier was… I just don't want to have to do this again every time the Joker is involved."

"Red," Harley whispered. She rolled over and put her head on her lap, staring up at Ivy with glittering eyes. When she didn't resist, she reached up and touched her shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Red. And thanks. Really. But still I can't believe you went out without me. It's nice to know you do care. It makes you different from him, you know? That's what I love about ya."

Ivy stared at her, words not quite formulating in her mind the way she'd hoped. Was she teasing her? She had to be. There was nothing truly likeable about this idiot, and yet she continually doted on her in her own sometimes wicked ways. In fact, Ivy couldn't quite imagine what her life would be like without her. What had it been like before she met her? She craved her attention and that was, admittedly Ivy's sunshine and water.

"Harley," she sighed. "Give up on him. All he does is hurt you. Everything you do you do for him. You _know_ how much that irritates me."

Harley sat up, head angled. "But I do things for you too, Red."

"But you…just blindly do whatever he tells you to! You risk your life just to impress someone who will never be impressed by you!"

"I don't get it. You're never impressed with me neither. But I do whatever you tell me to."

"That's different." Ivy grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "I'm not like him. Don't _ever_ lump me together with him."

Harley just shrugged. "I know that. But sometimes you're kinda similar. I love bothaya the same. So who cares?" Then she laughed. "Y'know, the two of you even treat me the same, always callin' me an idiot and telling me to go away. 'Course you hit me less but you sure scream a lot more. But you know I don't mind 'cause I know you still care 'bout me, dontcha? Mr. J can be real mean sometimes, but I can't help carin' 'bout him, y'know? Same way you care about me, I think. An' it doesn't matter if he hurts me 'cause I'll always have you."

"That's the problem! Can't you see it yet? You say you love me but you're in fact _in love _with him. There's a major difference here. You can't be in love with two people at once!" In love. Who was she kidding? Those words sounded nothing below ludicrous even to herself. Ivy in love was as ironic as calling Harley a doctor. And yet there it was-the proof in her metaphysical heart. The proof on her degree—"Dr. Harleen Quinzel: for the insane, by the insane." Love was supposed to be a tool, not a charity. This woman was annoying and most of the time she wanted her gone. She never ran after Harley whenever she was kicked out. Harley was supposed to be no more than a tool. And yet there she was time and time again, planting a little something inside Ivy every time. It drove her mad. Stark ravingly so.

Harley stared back. "But it don't feel all that different. Does that mean you don't want me here either?"

That signature pout. Ivy exhaled and, without giving herself a moment to rethink, pulled her into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, Harles, I do want you here. I really do," she whispered, "but you really piss me off sometimes." Harley was caught off guard. Where was the shouting and the screaming? Where were the walls of briar she kept around her heart? She grinned and, just for a second, found herself tempted to tell her how much she enjoyed such vulnerability. She'd taken the pain of thorns more times than she could count. Finally, she'd reached the first petals of the rose.

"I know. But I can't help it. I try not to be sometimes I just do it," Harley said quickly. She didn't wait a moment more. The moment was between her fingertips. She reached over and gently held her by the cheek, planting her lips firmly into Ivy's. She didn't have a reason to. Ivy knew that. It felt right, and Harley knew it would please her. That was the only reason why she did anything. Ivy smiled into the kiss and gladly reigned over. Just as Harley hoped.

This was becoming routine. And Ivy was too drunk with emotion to be scared.

She eased her onto her back and gently tugged free her smooth blonde hair. Harley made a noise as her head hit the pillow. "Every time," Ivy murmured in frustration, "this is how you solve problems every single time." Her blue eyes sparkled big and wide in the most innocent way possible.

Her signature grin. "I like when you're on top, Red." She laughed when a pink hue began to surface on her green skin. "And it's so fun makin' the almighty Poison Ivy blush. 'Cause pink don't look all that great with green."

"Shut up, Harles." She hid her face in her thinly covered breasts. "Don't piss me off now." She didn't hesitate to reach straight into her panties, clapping her hand around the region applying a bit of pressure just briefly. Harley yelped and involuntarily tugged at Ivy's negligee.

Ivy smiled. She loved hearing this voice of hers. It was one she felt she could keep to herself. Perhaps the Joker had his own version, as much as she hated to think, but she was sure this was surely her own. Only her actions could produce such a beautiful sound. Every time she hit the key, Ivy felt her libido soar. It was a magical sort of rush that not even her plants could give.

They ripped off all that stood between them before either could remember who took the first step. They savoured the feeling of their bodies pressed together, the way they fit together. In perfect harmony, they felt truly temporal, truly human. This sinful passion that passed between them sent shocks down their bodies. In this moment they were neither hero nor villain, sane or insane. They were in a pit of fire, lost within themselves and that was all that mattered.

Ivy loved the shape of Harley's body under her hands. She was so delicate and soft and so unlike anything else. She loved being able to stroke her however she wanted, then receiving that gift of voice that drove her insane. Oh god she barely know where to begin! She kissed her with her poison lips and hoped beyond all hope that the aphrodisiac in her veins would make an exception just this once. "Oh please, Red," she sighed, her fingers prowling her head in frustration. Just when Ivy began to think she'd regained her calm. Now she couldn't stop thinking about the way she was caressing her out of frustration, and the way she repeated her name. She didn't want to dive straight into the main event, but it was too much. There were too many forces trying to fast forward the show. She just couldn't take it.

In truth, Harley was fine. She held on tight and felt Ivy's touch with every bit of intensity. She would lose it soon, but for now she was fine. She loved this act. She loved driving Ivy up the wall with the merest actions. She loved seeing her quiver and hesitated whenever she said her name. She loved hearing that quiet little sigh whenever a noise escaped her throat. This would be the only time they spend together, where Harley could enjoy her vulnerability, her shyness, her insanity. This would be the only time when the roles were switched, even if she allowed her to take the lead. This was a little selfish slice of heaven that only Ivy could grant her. The great, voluptuous Poison Ivy who could bring any man to their knees with a smile was in her arms, shirking her temperance and shivering for fear of making a mistake. Sexuality may still be her art, but Harley knew she was something of an exception. That is, she was the only one to pull apart the briars and bring up her transparent façade. This power was something she couldn't even begin to describe! Just thinking about it made her want to…

She arched her back. Ivy ran a hand over the side of her body, caressing all the right places. Harley considered provoking her, aggravating something out of her that would truly spark the flame. But that was always the routine. It was always the same results. They'd escalate to the highest point, touch the heavens and embrace each other in paradise. It produced a feeling incomparable to any other. It was beautiful, yet so temporary before the cycle begins again to the break of dawn. It wasn't that she hated the anger in making love. But she had to wonder if Ivy had the capacity to be gentle at all. She was now, but could she be when she stood at the pinnacle of frustration? Ivy the hot-tempered seductress. Perhaps—

"Oh my God!" Harley cried, bursting into an embarrassing pitch. The noises she'd forced out of her mouth brought blood boiling hot in her face, all the way to the tips of her ears.

"The game begins, Harley," Ivy said with a wicked grin. In one carrying half pulling and half shoving move, Ivy sat her upright. Harley could feel the cool brass bars of the headboard against her back. They held each other's gaze, just in time to register the glassy, almost mad look in each other's eyes. Before she could remember what transpired in the last fifteen seconds, Harley found her legs wrapped around her head, fingers in a mess of red. Each rational thought flew out of her mind, one by one, until had only the space for one thing only. That one thing was driving her mad. That one thing was Ivy, spreading poison from her lips, attacking where it was most sensitive.

Ivy was functioning, if only on her bare animal instincts. Her rational mind short-circuited long ago. She'd lost to the little grunts and whines, the dips and the flight of pitch in Harley's voice. She could think of nothing but her hunger. She was thirsting as she drank. She was working towards something, but she could no longer remember what it was. And then there it was: life and art in all its brazen glory right before her eyes. Its beauty etched into her mind, perhaps for eternity. She looked up and watched, transfixed.

Harley arched once more, the moonlight drowning her breasts in the perfect shade of blue. She held onto the bars, her body taut, suspended in ecstasy. She might've screamed. But the beauty of the moment had rendered both of them deaf. Her cheeks reddened and her breath grew short. Ivy reached up and pulled her into her arms as she quivered as the last fragments of reality set itself into place.

Outside, car wheels screeched. The sirens whirred by. And all was right in Gotham City.

Yet, having shared such a moment, neither knew what to say. It felt like this was the first time they'd truly made love, and yet it was far from it. Harley curled herself up against Ivy's chest. There was no reciprocation, and yet they were both oddly satisfied. They were content with the warmth of each other's skin. Ivy reached behind her and pulled the blanket over both of them.

Tonight they would sleep on the clouds and enjoy a world with a population of two.

Tomorrow, they would look for the Joker.

* * *

**A/N: So this was supposed to be cliche and romantic. And it definitely wasn't romantic. Halfway through I realized I really wouldn't know what to do if the Joker did die. My imagination couldn't process anything past that...And then I thought I should preserve their personalities so they're not all OOC and weird. I don't think that worked too well. Although I don't doubt that Harley has the capacity to at least pretend to be smart (which kind of makes her smart). She IS a doctor. **

**I apologize for any inconsistencies with the series. C'mon it's just a story about making love, okay? In a...poetic?...long-winded...and not very explicit sort of way! Essentially that's all I wanted to accomplish. Sorry. But sex shouldn't be a vulgar thing. Seriously. I have vowed never to use the p-word again. Once was quite enough thank you :)**


End file.
